


Please hold the Line

by naboru



Series: Blast Off/Vortex Advent Calendar [13]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Comedy, Implied Relationships, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-13
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 13:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1081468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At home because he's been suspended from work, Vortex is bored - until someone calls.</p><p>Vortex, Blast Off / implied Blast Off/Vortex / comedy, implied smut / PG-13</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please hold the Line

**Author's Note:**

> **Continuity:** G1 (part of ultharkitty's [Dysfunction AU](http://community.livejournal.com/lost_carcosa/19574.html#cutid1)), pre-war  
>  **Warnings:** comedy, implied smut  
>  **Characters/Pairing:** implied Blast Off/Vortex  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
>  **Beta:** ultharkitty

It was so boring, even the silence yawned.

Well, not really – the sound like a jaw joint needing lubricant was from Vortex’ apartment’s air conditioning. It needed repairs, but the ‘copter couldn’t bring himself to call for a service.

Not that kind of service anyway.

Vortex was restricted to the apartment. Onslaught wouldn't allow him to enter HQ since he was suspended from work, having been ordered to stay at home as long as Polyhex’ authorities investigated a murder that Vortex hadn’t cleaned up as well as he’d thought.

He sighed theatrically, sitting upside down on his sofa with his feet in the air. He wiggled them while he watched mid-cycle TV. Even bottom up, it was annoying. Who the frag watched things like that?

Telenovellas, energon preparation shows that explained how high grade was made, news about economic failures in the past, and a series called Big Wheels- oh, now these were some nice grounders.

He kept watching the rest of the episode until the newscast aired, and he only vaguely listened to observers reporting and complaining about a shuttle that had flown by far too low just a few astroseconds before.

Vortex huffed. His own personal shuttle was on a business trip somewhere, he had no idea where, and wouldn’t come back before tomorrow. So he didn’t have a shuttle he could annoy, and everyone else was working or forbidden to talk to him. He pondered calling Intransia's.

They had this drone there, and he could really do with some rotor massage.

Musing on this for a while, he was close getting up and going to the console to call out, when he was caught by surprise at a ping from an unexpected source.

He opened the comm-link, grinning. “Hey Thrusters.”

There was only static. Maybe Blast Off hadn’t wanted to dial Vortex? The ‘copter frowned at the thought, but after a few astroseconds the shuttle’s voice finally spoke.

“Vortex? You there?”

“…yes?”

Blast Off’s speech was different, with a hint to an accent which sometimes came through and sounded like a whole different language when it got more prominent.

It only happened after Blast Off had high grade.

“Thrusters,” Vortex said anew, “are you drunk?”

Again there was a pause, then the line crackled, causing the ‘copter’s grin to broaden. “Yeah. I think I kinda am.”

“Any reason you’re calling?” Vortex could think of many entertaining reasons, especially with Blast Off being drunk and the static crackling in his comm-line. His rotors twitched and started quivering. He didn’t wait for an answer, and added, not making the smirk on his face audible. “Are you bored?”

“I dunno. Maybe?”

“I could help you pass the time if you like,” Vortex offered, and his own hand found the tip of his rotor blade.

“I guess…” The shuttle didn’t sound very enthusiastic, but when did Blast Off ever?

“Would you like to touch my rotors?” Vortex definitely would like it.

“I… uh… now?”

“Yes, now,” the ‘copter replied, trying to help the shuttle to get into the game. “Run a hand over them, squeeze them, bend them.”

Another crackle, but there was no real response, and Vortex understood it as a good sign. He continued with a rough voice and pinched his rotor, imagine it to be Blast Off doing it. “It’d made me shiver and squirm. You like that, don’t you? Watching me squirm beneath you?”

“Uhm…”

Apparently Blast Off needed a bit more encouragement, or he was too distracted from speaking. The idea of Blast Off touching himself caused a nice heat to spread and gather right at his interface panel.

“I want you to push me down and feel your field buzz against mine and invade my armour. I want you looming over me and sense the hot air from your vents on my plating.” The last few words Vortex said with a drawn-out sign.

A bust of static, followed by more stammering. “I… uh… why are you telling me this?”

Blast Off confusion was probably part of the game, so Vortex thought. “Because the static in your voice makes me horny.”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, I guess?”

Vortex frowned, and sat up, letting go of his rotor. “You’re not horny?”

“Uhm, no. I wasn’t…”

“If you’re not horny, what's with all the static and crackling?” The ‘copter couldn’t help but be disappointed and also a bit angry. He’d really tried, and then that.

“It’s because of the wind.”

“The wind? What the frag? Where are you?”

“I just passed the Rust Sea,” Blast Off answered, an odd edge to the voice that could be described as confused apology if it hadn’t been Blast Off talking.

“Wait a sec, you’re flying?”

“Yeah, ‘course I am. What do you think I’m doing?”

Vortex shook his head, knowing the shuttle couldn’t see him, but this was just too bizarre. “I don’t know. Definitely not flying. You do know you're not allowed to fly while drunk?”

“I know. But I wanted to recharge on my own berth.”

It was like Blast Off had been infected with some sort of Brawl-virus, because right then it was hard to believe Vortex was talking to the shuttle.

“O _kay_. And what if the authorities catch you?” A few astroseconds passed, and Vortex considered calling Onslaught. 

“Nah”, Blast Off didn’t sound concerned. “Police fly up to Mach 3. I’m flying at Mach 5.”

“Sigma…” With a mix of an annoyed sigh and a suppressed chuckle, Vortex buried his face in his hand. “You’re flying at Mach 5. And you’re drunk.”

“Yep.” The shuttle’s choice of word only emphasised his state.

“Did it occur to you that this might be dangerous?”

“Actually… I haven’t thought about that.”

“But you should?” Vortex couldn't believe he was saying this. It was Blast Off of all mechs he was talking to. “You could crash.”

“Not into an asteroid,” was the seemingly unrelated answer that made Vortex flicker his optics.

“Well, no. But into the ground.”

“I could, but I won’t. I’ll know if I do.”

Vortex’ shoulder twitched as he softly laughed. “I don’t doubt that.” His rotor brushed the back rest, and he was reminded that he was in fact charged, and annoyed at the shuttle. “Why did you call me if you didn’t want comm-sex?”

“I needed someone to keep me awake, and your voice is just irritating enough for that.”

“Oh, thank you,” the ‘copter muttered in return, but couldn’t even be really angry when the shuttle replied with a complete lack of sarcasm “You’re welcome.”

There was only the constant static from Blast Off’s comm for a moment, until Vortex began once more. “Just so I get it right: you’re drunk, flying, and need to be kept awake? Why?”

“Because I kinda didn’t recharge tonight. And I want to recharge in my own berth, so I just flew today.”

Vortex exhaled deeply. “You’re drunk, tired and flying at Mach-“

“If you say it like that,” Blast Off interrupted, “it sounds like something you’d do…”

“It does. But don’t worry, I won’t tell Onslaught about it.”

“Okay,” the shuttle mumbled, hardly audible within another crackle, but the confusion still clear. “Uh… you’re still horny?”

Vortex perked up. “Why?”

“Because, you know, I’ll be in Kaon in about two breems.”

Vortex’ rotor blades started shivering again. Inebriated, confused Blast Off was something Vortex hardly ever got, but he might still have a chance today.

He imagined the shuttle's purple optics behind his visor widening, posture a little tense in uncertainty; it made Vortex want to do all the dirty things to him.

“You could pay me a visit?” Vortex suggested, trying not to sound too eager.

“You moved. I have no idea where you live now,” Blast Off said, as though he was frowning. “And I wanted to recharge in my own berth…”

“Well,” the ‘copter sighed loudly, “that’s too bad. I have to stay in my apartment. Onslaught’s orders.”

“Oh.” There was no curious question about why he shouldn’t leave, but Vortex didn’t expect Blast Off to ask.

“But I have a nice new huge berth.” Vortex leant against the side rest, and dug a crawled finger into his knee joint, scratching the metal beneath. “It adjusts to a mech’s weight,” Vortex added, remembering how Blast Off had once complained about a hotel berth not doing that and how uncomfortable it had been.

“It does that?”

“Yes, it does.” Vortex grin came back. “And it’s solid, so that we could do lots of different things on it.” There was a little regret of having said that, just because Vortex almost expected Blast Off to answer “like recharge”. Though, the reply was more static, and something that would have been a crackling whine.

Eventually, Blast Off asked. “Where do you live?”


End file.
